There we are! Aren’t we cute. I’m the grey one by the way. The one looking morbidly at the dirt I’m sitting in. The bright orange fellow mid bounce would be my husband.

We have a perfect marriage. We’re alike in all the things and dissimilar in everything else. It’s a crazy balancing act that must have originated in heaven, because it’s effortless. We almost never argue, often laugh, and always adore each other. It’s been that way for as long as we’ve known one another, so don’t rain on my parade with all that “honeymoon stage” bologna. It’s been eight years. I think it’s safe to say “for keeps” at this juncture.

But still, sometimes how crazily different we are makes me snort derisively.

I’m a determined pessimist. My husband is a dedicated optimist. I think my way is better. I tried to explain it to him. I said, “Look, if I always expect the worst, I’m more likely to be pleasantly surprised.” He doesn’t seem to see my logic so instead he bounces around me, laughing while he showers me with rose petals and glitter.

Sometimes he annoys me when he pounces me from behind with all his talk of sunshine and butterflies. I worry that he’s not being realistic, because there COULD be an earthquake, and thusly a little preparation is in order. But really, life would get pretty gloomy without his constant rays of sunshine. He brings laughter to my gloomy spot, and encourages me when I feel like there’s no point in moving forward.

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Published by Rachel Svendsen

Rachel is a poet and writer from Pennsylvania, where she lives with her husband and children. Her short story "Filling the Silence" received an honorable mention in the 2019 Story Embers short story competition.
View all posts by Rachel Svendsen